


Harvest of Tainted Hearts

by bunsofcheese (thingshlcant)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Affairs, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BadBoy!Peeta, F/M, Farmgirl!Katniss, Fluff and Angst, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-06 04:26:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11028606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingshlcant/pseuds/bunsofcheese
Summary: An old friend of Katniss's father sends his son, Peeta, to stay with the Everdeens on their corn farm in rural Illinois. Mr. Everdeen tells his daughters that he's only coming to help with harvest season, but Katniss will soon learn that Peeta has a much more pressing reason for coming to stay with them.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multi-chapter fanfic of any kind. I hope anyone who reads it enjoys it. Find me on Tumblr as thebungames, I'd love to chat! :)

“Morning,” I yawned, entering the kitchen.

“Good morning, Kat,” Prim chirped from her seat at the kitchen table. 

Grabbing the orange juice, I chugged it down without a glass. Glasses were a nuisance to me, and once my dad had figured that out, he began buying bottles of orange juice just for me. 

“Katniss, I have something to discuss with you girls,” Dad declared from his seat at the breakfast table. 

For the first time that morning, I turned my gaze to my sister and father. I knew that tone my father used. He used it when making business transactions with his partners in our corn business and when there was something serious he had to tell us girls and knew we wouldn’t like. Nervously, I walked to the kitchen table, clutching my OJ bottle, my stomach twisting itself into knots. 

“What is it, Dad?” Prim asked, her blue eyes bright, eager for new excitement around our mundane farm house. 

Even at fourteen, Prim maintained a wide-eyed wonder with which she looked at the world, despite everything she’d gone through. I envied that about her. But most of all, I was happy she could still be eager about things. 

Dad cleared his throat, folded his newspaper, and leaned forward on his elbows that settled on the table. “We have a guest coming tomorrow,” Dad said. 

I huffed. The last thing I wanted was for someone to come to dinner when I was just getting on track with working on the farm after I had graduated school two months ago. Slightly confused by my father’s solemn behavior, I tipped the bottle back to drain the rest of my OJ. 

“Oh, is Mr. Abernathy coming over tonight again?” Prim inquired, speaking of our neighbor that lived five miles away who occasionally had dinner with us. 

“No, it’s an old friend of mine’s son. And he’s not just staying for dinner,” My father clasped his hands. 

Over my bottle, I raised my eyebrows. Why didn’t he just spit out what he was going to say?

“He’s staying through summer to the fall.”

I choked on the juice still making it’s way down my throat. Doubling over in my chair, I coughed, orange juice spilling out of my mouth along with drool as I gasped, trying to catch my breath. Prim patted me on the back. Normally, it irritated the hell out of me when people did that, but this was Prim and I could never find it in myself to be genuinely annoyed or mad with her. 

“He what now?” I sputtered, orange juice drool dangling from my chin. 

“Richard Mellark, an old friend of mine will be sending his son, Peeta, to stay with us until harvest time is over,” Dad repeated calmly. 

I wiped my mouth off on my shirt sleeve. My eyes felt like they’d pop out of my head. What had gotten into my father. 

“Dad, we don’t have the means to support some guest who will be eating our food and watching tv all day like those lazy city kids do,” I protested, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“Katniss, I wouldn’t allow him to stay if he wasn’t going to be helping out,” Dad countered, his soft gray eyes gazing into mine. 

“Well, that’s even worse!,” I exclaimed. “I have enough work to do without having to teach some dipshit how to drive tractor or even push a wheel-barrow.”

My dad simply laughed, his eyes crinkling as he shook his head. “Oh, dear. You haven’t even met the kid and you’re already insulting him with your colorful language.”

“Well, I’m excited!” Prim piped up from beside me. I hadn’t even realized she still had her hand on my back. “I was always curious what it’d be like to have an older brother.”

It was just like Prim to find the bright side in the darkest of situations. But even her enthusiasm couldn’t budge me towards having a positive attitude towards this disaster in the making. 

“Well that makes two of three Everdeens in this household ready to welcome our guest,” Dad smiled at me. 

I scowled back. “Why the short notice, Dad? You could’ve at least given us a week’s notice,” I asked, my brow creasing with worry. 

“I know, dear, I’m very sorry. I’ve been so busy making sure everything takes off the right way this summer with our corn, pigs, and equipment that it kept slipping my mind,” Dad answered, his smile faltering. 

I was reminded of a time when all traces of that smile seemed to have gotten erased from his face, the only indication he had once smiled and laughed being the deep grooves of his crow’s feet and the lines around his mouth that went in an upward direction. And it was true. We had all been busy preparing for our farm to be up and in working operation as there were always things needing to be fixed and updated. Even with our group of hardworking farm hands there would always be things left for us to get finished as well. 

And remembering how hard Dad had worked to get back on his feet, to rear us single-handedly, to keep this farm going, I knew I had to try for him. 

That didn’t mean I had to be nice to this kid though. 

“Fine. But if he so much as steps a toe in my room, I will shoot him through the eye and skin him alive.”

Dad chuckled, the sound filling our cozy, wooden home. “I expect no less.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And your dad just decided it would a good time to invite some city kid to come and have a field day on the farm?” Gale scoffed, dumping soiled wood shavings into the wheel barrow that sat between the two rows of pig pens. 

“My dad talked to Mr. Mellark awhile ago about it already. This wasn’t some last minute decision. Dad’s not stupid. He knows what it takes to run a farm,” I retorted, upset that Gale was insinuating that Dad had thoughtlessly invited Mr. Mellark’s son to come stay. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Katniss,” Gale mumbled, and I caught the roll of his eyes as he turned away from throwing another forkful of pig manure into the wheelbarrow. “It’s just, I really don’t want some ignorant kid under foot while we all try to get work done.”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly thrilled about it, either,” I sighed, the frustration from this morning’s announcement ebbing into weariness. 

“So, what’s this kid’s deal?”

My brows furrowed, and I stopped cleaning the stall, facing Gale. “You know, now that I come to think of it, I have no clue. Dad didn’t say much about it. He’s been so busy, it probably slipped his mind to give us more information on him.”

But this excuse didn’t settle right with me. Even though Dad had forgotten to tell us sooner that this Peeta was coming, it made no sense that he’d forget to fill us in on why he was coming to stay, especially for such a long time. And now that I had started thinking about it, I could feel my curiosity growing. The situation was less than convenient, especially since summer and fall was one of the busier times of the year for the farm, and we’d never done a favor for anyone like this before. Then again, if Peeta was staying here without pay and would be helping us with harvest time, it would make sense why Dad agreed to the arrangement. 

 

“Seems a bit weird your dad didn’t tell you anything about him. You’ve never met him or anything?” Gale asked, wiping sweat from his brow. 

I shook my head. “No, he hasn’t told me anything. I mean, I’ve seen pictures of him when he was little, but no recent ones. I know his parents are divorced. He’s my age, you know?”

This stopped Gale in his movements of wiping sweat off his toned body with his t-shirt he’d now pulled off. The hard planes of his olive-skinned chest glistened. “18, huh? Well, at least I’m his senior, that’ll give him a bit more of an incentive to follow what I say, right?”

I pulled my eyes away from his bare torso, the sight making me antsy and uncomfortable for some reason. Meeting his eyes, I saw a small smirk on his face. This made me scowl. 

Turning back to my work, I grumbled, “You’re such an ass about your age. Two years age difference doesn’t really drive a person to feel convicted to serve you like a king.”

“Whatever you say, Catnip,” Gale chuckled, starting to roll the full wheelbarrow away to dump out it’s contents. 

I threw some dirty bedding still left on my pitchfork at his glistening bare back. I laughed at the disconcerted noise that left his noise, filling the small pig barn. He turned, his thick brows furrowed, an indignant look creasing his features. 

“Jesus, Everdeen, throw that pig shit where it’s supposed to go!”

“Jesus, Hawthorne, put that shirt back where it’s supposed to go, and maybe I will,” I smirked. 

He simply scoffed, shaking his head, mumbling something about me being pure as he trudged the wheelbarrow towards our manure pile outside the barn. 

I narrowed my eyes in confusion as my best friend and my dad’s farm hand walked away. Our friendship had started while we were both still in school, and when Gale had mentioned he was looking for a job, I suggested talking with my dad about it. After that, Gale was hired as one of our permanent farm hands. The friendship brought our families together as well. Our parents would have dinner together on evenings when the work was less, and Gale and I would go to town to watch a movie at our small theater. 

And then, my mom and Gale’s father had to go ruin all that. 

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I set the pitch fork down and cracked my neck, checking my watch. 

“Shit!” I shouted, running to go tell Gale to finish what little I had left to do in the pig barn. 

I had to wash up and help make dinner. Peeta would be here in two hours.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the terrible mistakes in the tags. I was confused and didn't know that using the "&" sign was what I was supposed to use for platonic or familial relationships. Thank you to @roseymama and @infinitegraces for making me aware of this. I also noticed that in the previous chapter I had written about the Everdeens owning horses and cattle and that was a mistake that I didn't see while editing. I've fixed that. And another thing, Katniss graduated the end of May, which I goofed up on in editing also. I've fixed all that and updated the first chapter. Again, I'm new at all this (clearly, haha), so you'll have to forgive me for the plethora of mistakes I'm bound to make.

Setting the last plate on the table, I stepped back to admire Prim and I’s handiwork. The table was set with our nicest red checked table cloth. Prim had folded the napkins in some extra fancy way that took her much longer than necessary. I thought it was useless since we were just going to dirty and ball them up, but we had visitors so rarely that I let Prim have her fun, without teasing her too much about it. After all what were sisters for if they weren’t a pain in the ass to each other. Prim had also thought it’d be nice to light some vanilla candles that she had made to make the setting a bit more cozy, and though I first protested, stating it reminded me too much of a cliche date, I had to admit it did make the whole arrangement much more homey. 

Prim had always had an eye for the finer details in life, while I constantly looked at the big picture, sometimes causing me to miss the small albeit important things that really made a difference. 

“When’s Dad supposed to be back with Peeta?” Prim asked, smoothing her light blue sundress down with delicate hands. 

“He said 7:30, so any minute now they should be here,” I answered, fidgeting with my braid. 

Normally, I wasn’t one to get nervous in social situations. People usually steered clear of me, thanks to my scowl I’d worked out to perfection. But tonight, it felt as if the innards in my stomach were taking some training course on how to tie intricate knots over and over. Instead of succumbing to the nerves, I pushed them down, irritation taking its place instead. 

“You look nice, Katniss,” Prim murmured, the soft glow from the candle light illuminating her features, making her look angelic. 

“Thanks, little duck, so do you. Like a newly born baby bluejay,” I teased, running my hand down her half-braid, and into the free half of her hair. 

“I swear, Katniss, if you use that nickname on me around Peeta, I’ll be so mortified I might die!” Prim exclaimed, dramatically. 

I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, and what happened to the familial feelings you were talking about having earlier? You little sneaky duck. God, I just love it when the hormones kick in. Considering the fact you never went through the whole ‘I hate boys’ stage I just cannot wait to see how badly boy crazy you get,” I sighed, sarcasm dripping from my words. 

“Oh, like you don’t want to know if he’s turned out to be as handsome as his old pictures suggest,” Prim retorted, flouncing away around me. 

I scoffed, “Prim, for God’s sake, baby pictures don’t give any indication of how attractive a person will be. And no! I don’t! But if I did, that would be okay, because us dating wouldn’t be illegal! If that boy even looks at you for more than a brief moment, I’ll shoot him with my bow and feed his remains to the pigs.”

“Okay, dear sister. Not like I actually want to date a guy that old. I’d much rather you end up with him. God knows you need to get laid again soon. I mean how long has it been anyway?” Prim smirked at me, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

My mouth dropped open, shocked at the fact my baby sister’s mind was already making it’s home in the gutter so quickly. I knew her spending so much time working on the farm with one of our other farm hands, Johanna, was a bad idea. I grabbed the kitchen towel from the table, and began swinging it towards her, trying to slap her bottom. Her shrieks and laughter filled our home, as I chased her around the table.

“Prim Margaret Everdeen! You little--” 

The sound of two male voices in our entryway--one familiar, the other foreign--startled us both and I looked up, breathing heavily as I had gotten Prim into a tight hold around her waist and had just raised my towel to smack her. 

“Girls we’re back,” My father’s calm voice announced as he made the short distance from the entryway into our dining/kitchen area. 

Prim was the first to squirm away from our frozen position, and I promptly untangled my limbs from around her. 

And that’s when the infamous Peeta Mellark, son of Mr. Mellark, mysterious visitor, and temporary farm hand walked around the corner into view. I almost dropped the towel that I had used as my weapon against Prim. 

Peeta Mellark certainly was in no way the little boy that was sitting on his father’s shoulders in the most recent (which wasn’t recent at all) picture of him Dad had showed me. That boy was chubby, with soft cheeks and kind blue eyes and a smile that could light up the world. But the boy standing next to my father now was stocky, face all hard lines and edges, with grim blue eyes and a mouth pressed into a straight line.

He was insanely attractive, even with the ugly purple bruise that covered his left eye, and the angry red cuts digging into his fair skin. 

And that only made my dislike towards him grow stronger. Still, my curiosity at what had caused him to gain those marks was piqued.

“Peeta, these are my two daughters--Katniss and Prim. Katniss, Prim, this is Peeta,” Dad introduced us, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

Despite Dad’s warm introductions, the atmosphere that Peeta brought with him was cold and uninviting. 

I extended my hand forward. If someone was going to be the bigger person here, I would be that person. This boy was in my home, on my property, and I wasn’t about to let him make me feel unwelcome or uncomfortable on my own damn turf. But Peeta was here being housed by us, being fed by us, and my anger boiled under the thin surface of my indifferent expression at his disrespectful attitude. 

“Nice to meet you,” my voice came out strained, but steady. 

A moment too long passed before I realized there would be no shaking of my hand. Well, fuck being the bigger person. I unleashed my scowl on him, and was taken aback by the intensity in his eyes when his gaze finally met mine after looking at some random point past my shoulder. It was like witnessing an eclipse happening right inside someone’s eyes. Though the color of his eyes were the shade of the early morning sky, the hardness in their expression made the light color murky, guarded. 

“Shall we get started on dinner?” Prim piped up, abruptly breaking our stare down. 

“Good idea, dear,” Dad smiled. 

We moved to seat ourselves at the table, Prim asking Dad trivial questions about the drive to pick up Peeta from his home. I was grateful for her successful attempts at making the awkward tension that had filled the room slowly ebb away. 

As we passed food around the table, Prim and my dad keeping up a steady flow of conversation, I couldn’t help but feel like a bug under a microscope with our new guest burning a hole into my head. If that was his way of thanking a family that was taking him under their wings, he had a very poor strategy. After he had dished himself, I thanked the heavens for the reprieve from the staring as Peeta dove into the food, eating like a starved man. It was only then I noticed how sunken his eyes looked, the purple bruise accentuating it more on his left eye. I eyed his long-sleeved shirt, a strange choice for a hot August night. 

“So, Peeta, our dad says you’ve come to stay and help with harvest time. We’re thankful for any help we can get around this time of year. It gets crazy busy,” Prim offered a smile, only to be met with Peeta’s blank stare. 

Peeta set his fork and knife down for the first time in minutes and swallowed his food, making his adam’s apple bob. “Didn’t have much choice. But I’ll do what I can to make myself useful,” he offered, his voice raw and low, not commanding like I expected it to be. 

He sounded defeated, and just the tone of his voice caused me to feel worn out.  
No emotion crossed his face, as he began eating again, albeit slower this time. I glanced at Dad, who was already gazing at me, observing me. 

“Katniss, this chicken, it’s excellent,” he commented, raising a piece of chicken on his fork in a sort of ‘cheers’ movement. 

“Thank you. Although, I think Prim put too much pepper on--”

“I did not!” Prim exclaimed, indignant. 

I grinned, wickedly. “Oh, don’t worry, little duck, we all know you’re the best cook in the family,” I winked at her. 

Immediately, her foot made contact with my shin under the table, right where I had a bad bruise from ramming it into the tractor steps earlier due to getting distracted by me and Gale’s bickering. 

“Motherfucker!” I barked. 

“Katniss!” My father reprimanded.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, Katniss,” Prim gasped at the same time. 

“God! I--I’m just going to be--I’ll just be right back,” I blurted. 

I stumbled from my chair, wincing from the sting of Prim’s jab. Making my way down our small hallway to the bathroom, I slammed the door shut and sat down on the covered toilet. Embarrassment flooded through me, followed by a new wave of anger towards our indifferent guest. I rubbed my face, frustrated that I could feel it hot from my blushing. Why I had left the table made no sense, and I realized how ridiculous that must’ve looked to everyone. To Peeta. The fact that I was even self-conscious around him infuriated me. But having him sitting across from me, staring, studying me was disconcerting. And I had to admit, I felt flustered. Whatever Dad had seen in Peeta, I was blind to, apparently. How I was going to survive spending hours training and working with that boy, I had no clue.

Letting out a short puff of air, I stood and braced myself for more awkward dinner conversation. As soon as I yanked the bathroom door open in a rush, I regretted moving with such speed. I barely avoided ramming straight into Peeta’s firm chest, his proximity and the suddenness of having him so close jarred my thoughts. His scent filled my lungs, musty and so distinctly male. He seemed caught off guard, and he lowered his fist that I guessed he was going to use to knock on the door with before I came barging through.

“Excuse me,” He muttered, his voice deep and gravelly, his gaze inquisitive as he stared down at me. 

“You’re excused,” I replied, shoving past him, ignoring how hot he felt against my arm as it brushed his abdomen. 

Serves him right for wearing a fucking long sleeved shirt in August. 

As I retreated to the kitchen, I could feel his eyes were still trained on me. This was going to be a long night. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following morning, after many more awkward moments I had to suffer through the previous night, I hopped onto the counter and drank my orange juice after rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Prim was frying eggs, her long blonde hair still in it’s usual nighttime bun, the left side of her face adorned with sleep lines. 

I nudged her leg with my toe, snorting at her face. “Somebody slept well.”

“I did, actually, for your information, miss juice guzzler,” she giggled at my scowl. 

“Excuse you, orange juice is very healthy for you,” I retorted. 

“Not at the amount you consume it,” she laughed, too chipper for any normal person to be at the ungodly hour of 4:30 a.m. 

“Asshole,” I mumbled. 

“Love you, too,” Prim smiled, sweetly. 

“Where’s our newest, lovely guest?” I asked, my face scrunching up. 

“Still asleep, I think.”

What Peeta’s deal was I didn’t know. But I’d be damned if I didn’t at least rough him up for being such a lazy ass. Mornings on the farm started at 4:30--no earlier, no later. It would be no different for him. 

“Well, we’re going to have to change that, aren’t we, little duck?” I asked, hopping off the counter. 

“Katniss,” Prim said with that warning tone that reminded me so much of our mom. 

“Prim,” I rolled my eyes, mocking her tone. Hastily, before Prim could stop me, I grabbed a small bucket we kept underneath the sink and filled it with ice cold water. “If our new farmboy is going to be working like the rest of us, it’s best he get used to the time we all have to wake up at.”

Trudging down the hall with the bucket, water sloshing over the sides, and Prim voicing her protests, I barged through our guest bedroom that had now become Peeta’s temporarily. 

“We’re burnin’ daylight, here! Up and at ‘em!” I boomed, raising the bucket high up over his head. 

“What the fuck!” Peeta shouted, eyes wide as he turned to look up from the pillow he’d just had his face smashed into. 

“Katniss, no!” I heard Prim protest, right as I turned the bucket upside down. 

Peeta let out a loud shout of disbelief, and then slammed into me accidentally as he stumbled out of his sheets. “Motherfucking ass shit!” He roared, steadying himself by grabbing onto my shoulders. 

He looked like a sopping wet dog, blonde curls still intact, but darkened and dripping with the water, blue eyes round with shock. His chest rose and fell with short breaths, glistening with water in the dim morning light, the sun still sleeping. That’s when I noticed he was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers. 

“Are you out of your damn mind?” He shouted in my face, large hands gripping my arms almost to the point of pain. 

My eyes were glued to his, our breaths mingling in the short distance between us. A small droplet of water slid down his straight nose and hung perilously off the end of it. My mind registered again that he was staring at me, eyes boring into mine, doing that infuriating thing where I felt like he was studying me, like maybe if he stared long enough he would figure out what the cure for cancer was. 

Ripping myself from his iron hold, I strode towards the door. Before I followed Prim out, I turned and gave him a sickly sweet smile. He still stood in the same place, hands digging into his drenched curls.

“If you don’t come out soon, there won’t be any cooked breakfast left,” I taunted, then my gaze settled on his still bare chest, droplets trailing down his well-defined abs and into the light trail of hair that descended past the waistband of his boxers. I couldn’t really see the details of his skin, his room dark still, just barely enough to see the definition of muscle. “And put on some damn clothes. No one cares about what’s underneath them around here, pretty boy.”

Peeta’s eyes still bore into mine, clouded and swirling with emotions and for a moment I almost felt sorry for what I’d done. Almost. And then, something changed in his face and eyes, like a light bulb had gone off. 

He stood straighter and cocked his head, his gaze challenging. 

“Really? Because you seemed pretty eager to get me out of bed, despite the fact that I might’ve been naked under those sheets. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were very interested in what’s underneath here,” Peeta gestured to his boxers, his words joking, but his tone and face humorless. “As for you, unless you want me knowing how cold you are, you might want to consider wearing a bra.”

My face flushed, my eyes widening in shock and I resisted the urge to cover my chest, as I saw his line of vision flit down to my chest and up again. Without another word, I marched out his door, leaving it open. As soon as I arrived in the kitchen, I was met with a very perturbed Prim. 

“What was that back there?” She asked, still shocked. 

“He’s not a guest, he’s a farmhand, he needs to get used to how we operate,” I retorted, sauntering over to stuff an egg on toast into my mouth. 

I could still feel my face was on fire. 

“Last time I checked, we didn’t wake each other up by pouring water on each other,” Prim laughed, shaking her head at me. 

“That’s because we all wake up on time,” I pointed out. 

“You just seem to be giving him a really hard time. You barely know the guy,” Prim shrugged, biting into her own egg. 

Our conversation was cut off by Dad trudging through the door. 

“Morning, sweethearts,” Dad grinned at us, grabbing an egg from the plate Prim had prepared. “Is Peeta still in bed?”

“No, Katniss took care of that,” Prim smirked.

“Oh, well, I did tell him he could have a day where he could wake up a little later than us, since he had a long drive here--wait what is that supposed to mean, exactly?” Dad turned to me.

“I gave him a--uh, wake up call,” I coughed. 

“Which means what, Katniss?” Dad asked, looking worried. 

“Well, we were all up already so, I may have woken him up by pouring water on his head,” I met Dad’s gaze, trying to keep a cool facade. 

He blinked a couple times, before letting a hearty chuckle out. “I shouldn’t be laughing,” he shook his head. But he was, covering his smile with his hand. After he recovered, he grinned at me. “Ease up on the kid, Katniss, he’s going to hate being here before the work even starts.”

“If you can’t handle the heat, get out of the kitchen,” I shrugged, stuffing the rest of my egg into my mouth.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love some feedback or critiques on the characters' personalities. I'm nervous I'm making them too OOC. Also, thank you all so much for the kudos and the comments. It means a lot :)

The hot coals of frustration that had been simmering since I heard of Peeta’s arrival had been fanned into a full fledged fire of anger. I couldn’t understand why my father had taken in a completely inexperienced person as a new farm hand and expected everyone to simply go along with it. During a hard day full of work, the last thing anyone on a farm wanted to hear or deal with was some clueless person who didn’t know the first thing about sweet corn or caring for pigs. 

My efforts to get Peeta out of bed were destroyed by Dad telling Peeta he could sleep in. Apparently he’d had a long night before he was picked up by Dad. The drive to our home was three hours away so he’d had a long drive. 

Still, I couldn’t find it in myself to feel sorry for trying to wake him up so early. Or with frigid water. I mean, he was here to work, for god’s sake. This wasn’t a vacation house, and by no means was a cute little hobby farm. This was our life. This was what had kept my family glued together. 

So, with these thoughts whirling in my head, I thrust myself into my work. Gale kept his thoughts to himself as we worked side by side, though at times I could feel his eyes flicking over to me. He knew I was a woman of few words and he didn’t push me to verbally express my feelings. We both knew that was asking for a lot of awkward grumbling and huffing, that would eventually end with me stomping away, red in the face. 

Communication was not a skill I’d mastered, nor one I cared to attempt to even begin to understand. Too many people used it to sugarcoat the ugly faces they were making at you. Like the women my mother used to invite over for dinner after church who complimented her on our humble home decorations while disgust was written all over their pinched faces. 

I was brought out of my thoughts by being slapped on the ass. Letting out a surprised shout, I turned to find Johanna--more commonly known as Jo--standing behind me with a smug grin on her sweaty face. 

“You been keeping secrets from me, Brainless?” 

“What are you talking about?” I asked, using the front of my loose tank top to wipe the sweat from my face. 

“I’m talking about the hot piece of ass that’s been sitting on your porch for the last hour or so, scribbling in some notebook like a mad man,” Jo sighed, rolling her eyes at me. 

“Oh, yeah that’s our new farm hand. His name’s Peeta Mellark,” I explained, dropping a tool back into the toolbox that laid on the ground next to the four-wheeler I just finished fixing. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Jo scoffed.

“Yeah, Jo, I’m kidding. My dad decided to have some guy sit on the porch for you to ogle over as a bonus for the hard work you do around here,” I grumbled, sarcastically. 

Johanna cackled. “I wouldn’t mind that being arranged. Although I don’t know why the kid is wearing long sleeves. It’s as hot as hell out here. Besides, with those biceps it should be a crime to cover up like that.”

“Jo, don’t you have something more important to do than leer at the guy?” I challenged, stepping into the four wheeler. After a couple tries the old thing rumbled to life and a small, triumphant grin spread over my face. 

“Like what?” Jo scrunched her face up at me, very well knowing the answer that was coming. 

“Like work!” I shouted over the rumble of the vehicle as I drove it past her. 

Our gravel driveway opened up into a circle at the end, more dirt paths leading to the different buildings we had on our property. It gave me the opportunity to circle the four wheeler around a couple times to make sure the stupid thing didn’t die on me again. Dad ran out of the supply shed, sporting a huge grin. Clapping his hands together he walked toward me, applauding my ability to get one of our essential vehicles up and running again. I had taken the task upon myself. It had taken a week to figure out how to fix it, but seeing the smile my dad wore, full of pride, was worth it. As he approached me, I turned it off so I could hear him talk without the extra noise. 

“You got the stubborn thing to run. I knew you could do it,” Dad chuckled. 

“I’m just glad it’s over,” I admitted, shaking my head at how much frustration the old thing had caused me. 

Dad leaned closer to me, lowering his voice. “How about as a little joyride you and Peeta can drive around the property line.”

My face screwed up in protest at the idea of having to drive around and not having anything to talk about. I mean, Gale talked about politics and government, but Peeta didn’t seem similar to Gale at all. I found myself worrying about how I’d get the conversation rolling, until my mind halted me. 

“Dad, no. I refuse. There’s no way I’m suffering through that. It’s supposed to be a joyride. What you’re asking me to do will make it the complete opposite of that,” I protested. 

“Come on, honey. You can show him around the property,” he raised his eyebrows, his gray eyes twinkling. “Maybe apologize for this morning’s, uh, wake up call.

I groaned. Unless I wanted to be a total bitch and drive off without Peeta, which I was fully capable of, I would have to do this. For Dad. After chewing on my lip for a moment thoughtfully, I came to the conclusion that if I kept a scowl on my face and didn’t try to make conversation it wouldn’t be as painful as I first thought. Besides, Peeta was so engrossed in his notepad I doubted he would even notice our property, much less ask me about it. 

“Fine,” I huffed. 

Dad’s face broke into a smile that was already threatening to appear minutes ago. He squeezed my shoulder gently. “Thank you, Katniss. And great work on the four wheeler, I’m proud of you.”  
He walked back to the shed. 

I smiled to myself, happy to know I had accomplished fixing an essential piece of equipment all on my own. The smile faded though, once I turned my head in the opposite direction of the shed towards my house. I could’ve sworn I saw Peeta’s eyes on me before flicking back to his notepad. But it was most likely just my imagination, a side effect of my paranoia that people were always watching and judging every move I made. 

I sighed before licking my dry lips, and calling, “Hey!”

Peeta’s head shot up, brows furrowed in concern only for them to knit together his expression becoming hard. He tilted his head at me, daring me to say another word. 

“Get your ass over here,” I commanded. His brows furrowed even more. I rolled my eyes, openly. “We’re going for a ride,” I explained. 

Surprise flashed across his face, before he abruptly hurried into the house, tightly gripping his pad. As he disappeared into the house I noticed the large patch of sweat that darkened the material on the back of his long sleeved shirt. I shook my head. 

Without even waiting a full minute, I started the four wheeler, deciding I had tried my best and he was clearly not interested in riding around. But right as I started turning the vehicle around in the direction of the trail that lead around our property, I heard a voice shouting behind me. Startled, I slammed on the breaks. I was surprised to find Peeta, jogging up and sliding into the seat next to me, huffing and puffing like he’d just ran a marathon. His face was red and his body heaved with each breath as if he might black out and for a moment I allowed myself to feel concern for him. The long sleeve shirt clearly was suffocating him in this heat. 

“Don’t you have a shred of patience?” He asked, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

“For people who use their words to communicate, sure,” I retorted.

Hurt flashed across his face, before he set his jaw and looked out across the fields. 

Damn it. I was supposed to be “going easy on the kid” like Dad told me to. 

Sighing, I set the vehicle into drive again, and sped forward. I didn’t miss how Peeta positioned his arms awkwardly to let his sweaty arm pits get aired out. I wrinkled my nose, finding the fact he chose to wear warm clothes on a day like this extremely odd. 

“Why don’t you wear a t-shirt. You know, the ones normal people wear during summer?” I taunted. For some reason, what he was wearing bugged me and I wanted to get under his skin about it. 

Catching me off guard, he let out a dark chuckle. The sound made goosebumps raise on my arms despite the high temperature. 

“Maybe I’m not normal,” he sneered. 

Glancing briefly at him, I was struck by how angry he looked even with the mocking smile stretched across his face. His blue eyes were ablaze and that ugly purple bruise only made him look more terrifying. That one look made me clamp my lips together and we rode in silence for a few minutes. 

That is, until I decided to open my big fat mouth again and decide to prod for information. I knew next to nothing about this confusing boy sitting next to me. It agitated me not being able to get somewhat of a picture of who he was, where he came from, and most importantly why he came here. Dad had said he came here to work, but yesterday at dinner, Peeta said he had no say in staying with us. I considered waiting for dinner to ask Dad about it, but Peeta would be there and that meant I’d have to find some time when Peeta wasn’t in the room. But Dad went to bed soon after relaxing with a book, and I didn’t feel like pestering Dad with my questions about our new arrival. Not to mention, Dad might get the wrong idea and think I was somehow interested or curious about Peeta. Which I wasn’t. At least, not in the way that it would sound to my Dad. 

So, I decided to try to get the information straight from the horse’s mouth. 

“So, why are you here?” 

Peeta jumped a bit in his seat, seeming like I’d just snapped him out of some dream state. I figured watching farm scenery whiz by would be quite relaxing after being surrounded by the city’s industrial scenery. That was another question I’d have to find out the answer to. What was it like being cramped up in a city?

Peeta cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “I came here to work.” His voice was flat.

“Then why aren’t you working?” I prodded.

I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my head. Now, it was my turn to shift in my seat.

“Why aren’t you working?” Peeta flipped the question back to me. 

“Because I’m driving your lazy ass around the property.”

“So, you don’t consider this work?” He asked, his voice taking on a weird, teasing quality I didn’t like. 

It wasn’t genuine and I could tell he was pissed at me. 

“Well, actually, yes, I do. Just being around you is enough to qualify as working.”

“Fine, then tomorrow when my work day starts, I’ll demand you come on a ride with me around your property and ask you blunt questions in the rudest manner possible. Voila, work finished.” Peeta’s words were harsh, and I didn’t dare a glance at him for fear of seeing those intense eyes staring into mine again. 

“Sorry, but if you’re going to be a smart ass when you’re working around here, you’ll get fired pretty quick,” I responded, haughtily.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not here because someone hired me. I’m here on a court ordered probation. So whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay in. I wanted to post this sooner, but the inspiration didn't come to me until later. Anyway, I worked very hard on this chapter and hope everyone enjoys it. Thank you all so much for the sweet comments you left, it kept me encouraged to keep on with the story. Find me on tumblr as thebungames, I'd love any feedback or to just chat! :)

My foot slammed on the break, causing us both to lurch forward. I could feel my eyes bulging, and my mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out except for a croak. I couldn’t believe my ears. My dad had welcomed someone on fucking probation into our home. It was like he was asking for us to get robbed. It wouldn’t exactly be hard to find ways to rob us of the humble money we made from our farm. Dad often left important financial things in his office, but the door was never locked and anyone wandering in could obtain information that could allow them to access our financial assets. And god knows what this stocky boy sitting across from me was capable of. 

My thoughts immediately went to Prim and I became infuriated with my father. I did not trust this boy one bit. And the fact that he was living, not to mention sleeping under the same roof as my little sister made my whole body flush with discomfort and rage. Blinking rapidly, still reeling from what he’d just confessed to, I turned to Peeta. 

“I--wha--y-you!”

He laughed, but the sound was hollow. “Finally figured out a way to make you stop with those questions.”

I scoffed, shaking my head, but still no intelligent answer came out of my mouth. 

“Well? Go ahead,” he leaned in, his eyes piercing into mine as if they could see into every dark hollow and crevice my soul harbored. “Ask me what I did,” he dared. He was so close I could smell him again. That same scent I recognized from last night mixed with sweat surrounded me. 

For reasons I couldn’t explain, my heart sped up at the dark look in his eyes and the heat his body was radiating. Why, when he was this close to me, did I feel no fear? Why wasn’t my body telling me to run for the hills screaming, when just moments ago this boy, inches away from me, had confessed to committing a misdemeanor?

Peeta’s gaze swept across my face. His eyes seemed to soften and I was taken aback by the sudden change and how such a subtle difference could make such a huge impact on his appearance. This close, I could see how deep the nicks on his face went and it made me wince. The second he saw my reaction to his wounds, something passed over his face and he sat back against his seat. He dropped his gaze, his jaw clenched, and when he looked back at me, the storm clouds were back, swirling, brewing up chaos within the blue depths of his irises. 

I was surprised to find that a small part of me felt disappointment at seeing the harsh expression return to his face, which only succeeded in making me feel even more strange about whatever just passed between us. 

Shaking my head, I cleared my throat before saying, “We should get back. There’s work to be done.”

There was only the rumble of the vehicle, the hot wind blowing, and birds chirping to answer me. Before pressing my foot to the gas, I stole a last glance at Peeta. His head was turned away, blonde curls ruffled by the breeze. The tense silence between us continued, the short respite from my anger at my father for letting Peeta stay here ended and my hands tightened around the steering wheel, turning my knuckles white. 

As we drove close past the corn that was stretching high towards the sun, out of the corner of my eye I saw Peeta slump further in his seat and let his head rest on the back of it. I pretended to be looking around warily at my surroundings, just to get a glimpse of the look on his face. He had closed his eyes, but the pale skin in between his brows was still creased, and his jaw was clenched tight. 

I huffed, not knowing what to do with the fact this strange boy would be spending everyday around me. He was an intruder, an inconvenience, a liability. Someone that could cause serious trouble in my simple life. And I didn’t like that one bit. 

The ride back to the house was filled with tense silence, and I only became angrier with everything when I parked the vehicle and realized Peeta had fallen asleep. I scowled at his peaceful face, irritated with his inability to stay awake when he hadn’t even gotten up early. With more force than necessary, I leaned into the horn on the wheel. Startled, Peeta awoke, eyes wide with alarm. 

“Jesus, do you always treat your guests like this? Or is this some type of special treatment just for me?” He asked, wryly. His large hands rubbed at his face roughly. 

“You’re not a guest,” I stated, bluntly. 

Peeta gave me a baffled look and shook his head. “I don’t know what you’ve got up your ass, but whatever it is, I didn’t put it there. So, maybe you can stop acting like that crime I committed was against you.” 

I crossed my arms over my chest. If this was his way of asking for a new start between us, he was doing a terrible job at it. The fact he just brought up his committing a crime should’ve been where he realized he fucked up at his weak attempt of a “truce” and just left to go make himself useful. But instead, he stayed there, now standing on the other side of the vehicle, arms crossed like mine. I was puzzled as to why he was sticking around. It’s not like we had to be friendly to work alongside each other. 

“You wanna know what would make me lay off you? If you actually made an effort to help out around here,” I retorted.

“I got here just yesterday night! You know what? Forget it,” he threw his hands up, as if in surrender. He sounded exasperated. 

He stomped up the porch steps. The screen door slammed after him, right after he left me with a chilling look, his eyes flashing with anger. 

I gritted my teeth together, hands clenching into fists. This was madness. Abruptly, I stalked my way to the storage barn, where I saw my father was just pulling in a tractor. As soon as he stepped down from the vehicle, I unleashed my fury. 

“He’s on probation? Because of a misdemeanor, Dad? Really? And you let him come stay here where Prim is. Let him live, sleep, eat under the same roof as her? You better have a really good explanation for bringing this boy here who is obviously bad news to our farm. I was never a fan of this arrangement, but this is crazy, Dad,” I nearly shouted. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Dad chuckled. He took a hold my shoulders. “Take a deep breath and please explain from the start why you’re mad?” His forehead creased with concern. 

I huffed out a deep breath. “When you told us that Peeta was coming to stay here, did you just conveniently forget to inform me on the fact that he’s here on probation, of all things? I mean, committing a misdemeanor isn’t a small thing,” I interrogated. 

Dad let go of my shoulders and took off his work gloves. He let out a sigh. “How did you find out he’s here on probation?”

“He told me himself.”

Dad lowered his voice, as if telling me something confidential. “Katniss, Peeta doesn’t come from a good home. The reason I didn’t tell you was because I wanted you to treat him like any other person. Of course, I didn’t count on you both seeming to get along so terribly, but I wanted him to come to a place where his personal reasons for being here weren’t just out in the open.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. 

“Peeta’s story of why he came here isn’t mine to tell. I suppose I should have handled this a little differently, but it was the best way to handle it that I could think of,” He admitted.

“So, you’re not going to tell me? You’re just going to leave me in the dark about this?” I asked in disbelief. 

“It isn’t my place to tell you anything about his life. It’s his. But I assure you, Katniss, if you both are at each other’s throats all the time, you won’t be getting any answers to your questions,” He gently warned me, putting a hand on my cheek. “I know you’re worried about Prim, and I’m sure the harvest is your top priority, but Peeta’s not looking for trouble, that much I can tell you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Trouble clings to some people like a bad odor, no matter how much they try to get rid of it.”

Dad pulled me in for a hug and I embraced him in return. His arms were like a fortress around me. I longed for those moments years ago when I was small enough to believe that my dad could protect me from anything scary or bad. 

“Prim is safe, Katniss. And so are you. I would never let anyone hurt you girls. No one comes before your safety and wellbeing,” Dad promised me, his voice raw with pain that still was and probably always would be there. I held him tighter, wondering if maybe my embrace could assure him in some way like his did mine. 

He released me, gave me an affectionate pat on the cheek, and smiled. I gave him a sad smile, knowing both of our minds were drifting to the one person that had broken all of our hearts. 

My mother. A cheater. A selfish woman, who’d chosen someone else’s love, abandoning all of us like we were no more than the dirt beneath her feet. 

I sighed and walked out of the storage barn, my anger dissipating with Dad’s calming words. I did not trust Peeta, but I trusted Dad with my life. And his judgement was good. He studied people like I did, wondering what their motives were, though his ways were much gentler.

I was quietly mulling over what my dad had said when I heard Prim’s joyful chatter and laughter coming from the pen in which she kept her goat, Lady. I frowned, confused. All the farmhands were off doing the work they had been ordered to finish. It wasn’t rare for Prim to visit Lady as a break from the hard work she also took part in around our farm. But any conversation that took place when she was with Lady was gentle, quiet, and obviously one-sided. I walked faster, curious to see if Rory, Gale’s little brother had stopped by to visit Prim. They had been getting extremely friendly over the past couple of months. Though I always kept a close eye on Rory, I was glad to know that Prim had a thing as immature as a crush on a boy to keep her distracted from directing her attention too much on our mother’s abandonment of us. She deserved that after all she had been through, no matter how much I looked down upon people’s infatuation with one another. That’s all that I could ever see love as now. 

I didn’t realize I had been smiling as I thought fondly of my little sister and her gentle soul, until it dipped down into a scowl as I heard a deep male tone coming from Lady’s pen as well. I turned the corner halfway to finally see the pen come into view, but used my hunter’s tread, so as not to make my presence known. My squinted eyes slowly widened as the view of the stocky boy with a marked up face feeding Prim’s small goat a treat filled my vision. Prim laughed as Lady searched Peeta for more treats.

“You know, she recently got pregnant,” Prim announced, eyes bright with excitement. She sat near Peeta in the grassy area, Peeta’s large hand stroking Lady’s head as she nibbled the hem of his sleeve. 

“Really?” Peeta asked, his face lighting up, taking on a boyish appearance that made him look more his actual age than he looked when a stern expression was displayed on his features. He got up on his knees to move to Lady’s side, his large hands sliding over her belly. 

“Yes. Rory’s goat is the father. Rory’s my friend who lives not far from us. He’s Gale’s little brother. Have you met Gale, yet?” Prim asked, clearly enjoying the attention she was getting from Peeta, his blue eyes fixed on her. Pride shone on her face as Peeta kept stroking Lady gently. 

It struck me how much they looked alike. Both had blonde hair and blue eyes, their pale complexions also matching. They could easily pass as siblings. 

Peeta cleared his throat and studied Lady’s coat. “No, ah, I actually haven’t gotten to meet any of the farm hands yet,” he admitted, looking sheepish. 

“Oh, well, that’s alright,” Prim comforted. “You’ll have plenty of time to get to know them.”

Peeta nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. 

I realized I’d been standing partly concealed by the corner of the storage barn for long enough and it was already time for me to make lunch. I stepped back to make my way to the house across the drive. 

“Hey, Katniss!” Prim called, spotting me. 

My body tensed. The last thing I wanted was the attention of the blue eyed boy on me. Nevertheless, I turned around. 

“Are you going to make lunch now?” Prim inquired. 

“Yes,” I replied, shortly. 

Prim got up and grabbed Peeta’s hand, exiting the pen and leading him towards me. I didn’t miss the way he flinched at the sudden touch and the way his shoulders rose with a quick inhale. 

“We’ll help you,” Prim grinned. 

I avoided Peeta’s steely gaze that had now locked on me. “No, Prim, it’s alright. I really don’t--”

“Oh, shush,” Prim waved away my protests and grabbed my hand with her free one. 

I flushed at the way we all three were linked. I looked at Prim strangely. She had never seemed so eager to help me with cooking before. I sneaked a glance up at Peeta to find him staring back, only to return his gaze to the ground. 

“I found this delicious looking recipe for potato cream soup, it’ll be fun to try it out together,” Prim chattered. 

I stayed silent as we piled into our small kitchen. Prim had looked up the recipe she had found before on our computer and written down the directions. She ordered me and Peeta around the kitchen and for once I was grateful for how bossy my sister became when in the kitchen. It made an excuse for me to not acknowledge Peeta’s presence and focus on what she told me to do.

When we were finally all working on our separate tasks, Prim asked, “So, Peeta, do you like cooking?”

Peeta kept his eyes trained on the potatoes he was cutting. “Well, I used to bake with my dad. He owns a bakery and I used to help him when I was younger. As for cooking, I guess I do enjoy it, if I’m given space to experiment.”

I found my eyes flitting up and down from Peeta to my work, interested in this morsel of information he’d shared. A ghost of a smile played on his lips. 

“I used love making these specific rolls. They were called cheese buns. It was the first recipe I mastered on my own without dad’s help,” he mumbled, a far off look in his eyes. 

“Would you maybe want to make us some? Or maybe you could teach me how to make them?” Prim asked and I stifled a laugh at how eager she looked. 

Peeta met her eyes and lifted the corners of his lips in the tiniest of smiles I’d ever seen. “I’ll, um, I’ll think about it.”

“Well, Katniss is a huge fan of food. I’m sure she’d love your buns,” Prim smirked, looking at me. 

I felt the heat in my cheeks instantly and gaped at her, eyes wide. “Prim! I-why don’t you get back to work. Are you just going to be blabbing or are you actually trying to get this soup you insisted we try cooked?” I asked. 

Before turning to another counter that caused my back to face Prim and Peeta, I noticed Peeta’s amused expression. 

“Tell me, Prim, does your sister always demand everyone to work constantly?” I heard him ask, mischief clear in his tone.

Prim snorted. “She never knows how to let loose. I think she sees bossing people around as a hobby.”

Goddamn it, Prim. I knew she would take the chance to embarrass me in front of him. Especially considering Peeta embodied the bad boy stereotype and was paying her attention. And irking me was her favorite past time. I loathed the fact they were talking about me like I wasn’t even in the room. My blood boiled. 

I heard loud footsteps, but didn’t dare turn my head. I tensed, my nerves screaming at me to move as I felt Peeta step up into my personal space. I looked up from cutting the carrots, and scowled at him. His smug smile twitched in amusement at my discomfort. 

“Oh, so that’s why she’s such a strangely dislikeable person. I guess all work and no play makes Kat a very dull girl,” Peeta taunted. 

“Do not call me that,” I growled, my scowl deepening. 

“There you go again with the bossing around, Kat,” Peeta tisked, shaking his head. 

“What are you--?” 

Peeta’s arms moved around me, not touching me, but keeping me close to his firm body, his warmth encompassing me. “Excuse me, sweetheart,” Peeta breathed into my ear, pouring the chopped potatoes into the boiling water on the stove that was on the other side of me. 

I shivered, and instantly felt mortified. Before I could gather my thoughts to say anything, Peeta stepped back and walked back to his previous place as if nothing happened. I glared at him dumbfounded and saw Prim trying to keep from giggling. 

“So, what next, Prim?” He asked, awaiting instruction. 

I zoned out, turning back to my carrots, fury burning through my veins. If Peeta thought I was bad before, he’d think I was the devil now. Sure, I wasn’t the type to be open and let loose like Prim had said. But one thing was for sure, if that boy was going to play dirty like that, he’d better be ready for the shitshow I was going to make his life. 

It’s on, baker boy. It. Is. On, I thought, with a last chop of the carrot.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank you all so much for the continued support and interest in this story. I hope you all like this chapter. I worked hard on it and I'm trying really hard not to make the characters OOC. Anyways, hope you enjoy and you can find me on Tumblr as thebungames

I prepared for bed at a snail’s pace that night, Peeta banging on the door insisting he needed to relieve himself. His short, polite pleas that I hurry up grew to become threatening growls. I’ll admit it was immature of me, petty even, but I got some type of sick satisfaction from controlling the situation. It was a way of showing him this wasn’t his place, wasn’t his vacation home where he could just do anything he wanted. He needed to wrap his head around the fact that my home was meant for me to escape to when I was sick of people. It wasn’t supposed to be the place that I dreaded because the exact person I was sick of was staying there. I fought so hard to get my peace back after my mom admitted to her unfaithfulness and my world crumbled around me.

In those days, my home was filled with muffled cries at night and suffocating silence at dinner. Everytime I passed my dad’s bedroom and saw the vacant, bare spot where my mom used to lie, her dresser cleared of all her possessions, it was a reminder of a love I was foolish enough to believe could last forever broken apart. To this day Dad slept on his side of the bed like he did when they were together and a part of me wonders if somewhere deep down he’s still hoping the woman who seemed to have adored him so much would return. 

My mother had always been somewhat disagreeable. I remember when my dad would teach me and Prim old songs he loved as a teenager on his guitar. Those were some of my favorite nights. He would tell us to climb into his and Mom’s bed and we’d all sing together. Some songs were upbeat, some dark and sorrowful. Whatever the emotion was, Dad’s voice reflected it perfectly and at times it made my heart clench to listen to his voice, though I was so young I couldn’t understand the depth of the lyrics. He told me I had inherited his voice.

But those memories could always be soured by the remembrance of Mom scolding Dad for teaching us songs we were, in her opinion, too young to sing. She’d rush us into our own beds and Dad would put away his guitar and the music I so dearly loved. That little nightly routine of ours became less and less of an occurrence until it ended completely before I even turned 12.

Mom had always looked so fondly at Dad and vice versa that I had no reason to doubt the authenticity of their love. Though, I couldn’t say the same about her love for me and Prim. Her affection towards us seemed like a chore to her sometimes. She picked the smallest things to be uptight about. I spent many sleepless nights after her confession and final exit from all of our lives, trying to figure out what I’d done to make this place so undesirable for her.

And then the hate creeped in. Blaming myself made me hard to the rest of the world. I first hated myself and then I hated the world around me. Mom’s betrayal caused me to become suspicious of anything that had to do with attachment to anyone. I eventually decided that I hated Mom for what she had done, for betraying me and Prim, but most of all, for leaving my father, without an explanation.

The only person since then I ever allowed myself to truly attach to was Prim. Because though Dad told both of us often that he loved us, how could I know for sure that I wouldn’t go and fuck something up without even knowing and have him leave, too. I couldn’t risk it. So, the only option was to distance myself from him, just in case.  

It had been a year since Mom left, and I still had nightmares of her. I hadn’t had one last night, my dreams filled with the unreal color of a certain someone’s eyes and flashes of things I couldn’t recall but I had shoved that out of my head the moment I awoke. It unsettled me. I hadn’t dreamed about anyone or anything besides my mother since she left. And just one day here he had already seemed to mess up my carefully rebuilt simplicity.

Remembering this made my resolve to shove Peeta as far away from me and my daily life as possible stronger. I rinsed my mouth, slammed my toothbrush into the jar we kept by the sink,  and flung the door open, sick of hearing Peeta’s incessant banging. 

I yelped in surprise when he shoved me out of the bathroom and the door closed. I heard it lock and walked away, flustered by the strength with which he shoved me. Not that I underestimated that about him, but being physically handled by such a stocky person was still a shock.

Prim walked out of her bedroom, confusion clear on her face. “What was all that racket?”

“I was using the bathroom,” I shrugged, walking into her bedroom and flopping onto her bed.

Prim turned and looked at me with a strange expression. “You mean you were hogging it? Or was that just my imagination that Peeta was yelling at you that he had to pee?” She giggled, sitting next to my reclined form.

I didn’t meet her eyes as I flipped through a Seventeen magazine she checked out from the library. “Not my fault he has a small bladder.”

Prim thunked her head against her bed’s headboard. I looked up at her. She folded her hands in prayer and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Dear God, may my sister one day learn what it is to be sympathetic.”

She squealed as I slapped her with the magazine, scoffing at her antics. “Dear God, may my little duck use that brain of hers and never again take a quiz in a magazine that tells her what type of guy is attracted to her.”

“Hey! Mind your own business,” Prim giggled, snatching the magazine from my hands. “Maybe if you took some of these quizzes you wouldn’t be so pathetically alone,” she joked. 

“Psh, I’m a strong woman, I don’t need no man,” I smirked, flipping my braid off my shoulder.

Prim mocked me as I talked, moving her lips in an exaggerated manner, her eyebrows raised in a mock look of superiority. She collapsed in a fit of giggles as I pounced on her, tickling her sides. She shrieked as I prodded my fingers under her neck where she was most ticklish and I laughed. When she yelped out her surrender, I fell back across the bed. My head hung off the side, and I panted from the exertion, both of us still chuckling.

My face fell, though, when I saw Peeta standing frozen in the hallway, watching, the same soft look on his face he displayed when he was with Lady. He noticed I was watching him back and he startled, quickly moving down to the guest bedroom and out of my sight. I scowled. 

After a few more minutes of conversation with Prim, I knew I needed to get to sleep. Getting up from her bed, I hugged her goodnight and wandered down the hall to my own bedroom. I saw that Peeta had already turned off his light, his room dark. I lingered at the closed door, some small voice telling me that he didn’t deserve the attitude I was giving him. I wondered if he’d had any contact with his family and what Dad had said earlier came back to mind. If he didn’t have a good home and I was giving him shit for being forced to come here against his will, he must be feeling extremely lonely. Completely unwanted. Guilt washed over me as I thought of the marks on his face and for the first time since he’d come I entertained the idea that Peeta Mellark meant no harm. 

But I thought of how he had committed a misdemeanor, how he seemed to enjoy making me uncomfortable, how closed off he was. 

And I realized what a hypocrite I was being. Because there was no difference in how I treated Peeta back. 

But my common sense won out, and I reminded myself that any kindness shown to Peeta would lead to disaster. He was temporary. Just like everyone else in my life. He was a  temporary fixture in my life and that was all I should see him as. He didn’t need my kindness and I certainly did not need his. 

Pulling myself away from his door with a nod, I walked down to my bedroom for some sleep. Sliding under the covers, I hoped that my nightmares would stay away for the length that Peeta was here. They’d been getting worse, my mind somehow knowing that the day Mom left last year was nearing. As if I needed reminding. The last thing I wanted though, was to have my cries interrupt Peeta’s sleep. There were few things more mortifying than having other people come to my rescue as I was kept in some dark place in my mind, screaming out for my mom like a child. 

It was with that thought that I fell into sleep. But my mind seemed to be making up for the lost time last night when I had no troublesome images floating through my head.

Images of my mother flashed behind my eyelids as I slept, locked away in unconsciousness. In this dream, my mother was crying, her tears sliding down her porcelain face, asking me why, why, why? But she said nothing more, only repeating the words over and over like a mantra and I closed my hands over my ears in my dream, trying to block her cries out, my gut filling with dread that no matter how hard I pressed my hands over my ears I couldn’t make her stop. She took a hold of my wrists and yanked my hands away from my ears still crying out, shaking me violently now. 

My eyes flew open, body thrashing against the sheets that ensnared my legs, making me feel claustrophobic. My name was being repeated in a panicked voice, and I registered that my wrists were being held in an iron grip away from my head where I must have been gripping my hair.

“Katniss! Katniss!”

When I finally came out of my nightmare enough to recognize who it was leaning over me, I pushed with more force than I knew I had away from him, effectively tearing my wrists from his grasp. The force from my push caused me to almost fall off the bed, but Peeta pulled me back to the center of my small bed, hands around my petite waist. My hands gripped his shoulders, instinctively clinging to him, not desiring to fall to my hard, wooden floor.

His movement was so sudden, the touch around my waist so foreign to me, my brain still frazzled from having just woken from a nightmare that we just sat there, neither one speaking. He stared down at me, I stared up at him. Gulping down breaths of air, I felt his shoulders rise and fall rapidly as he tried to regain his own breath. In the dim moonlight that shone through the window across from my bed, I could see how wide his eyes were as he stared down at me, his hair illuminated by the blue light. I must’ve still been in some strange dream-like state because a part of me marvelled at how big and taut his shoulders were, how firm they felt under my palms.

My skin broke out in goosebumps as I realized that he was shirtless at the same moment that his hands twitched around my bare waist. The tank top I’d worn to bed must’ve ridden up. I shoved his shoulders, and kicked off my sheets violently, succeeding in stumbling from my bed. My breath was shallow again as I roughly scrubbed a hand over my damp face.

Of course I would have been crying during the nightmare. How else was I going to embarrass myself before Peeta left my room, I thought.

“Out!” I croaked, trembling.

Oh, so that was how. I absolutely loathed how vulnerable I sounded.

I could see the bewilderment on Peeta’s face and I hated him for having the audacity to come into my bedroom. But I hated him even more for the obvious concern that his face displayed.

“Katni--”

“Get. Out,” I commanded, my voice raw and sore. This time it sounded more authoritative, though. 

My whole body shook with rage and mortification that he’d seen me in this state, that he’d heard my cries. I wiped my sweaty hands on my sleep shorts, as if it’d get rid of the fact that I had clung onto his bare shoulders with them. The sensation of having his warm flesh under mine seemed to be burned into my palms.

He stood slowly and walked to the door, his hand scrubbing through his tousled curls. Still, I made no move, my hands fisted at my sides, nails digging into skin. The light from the moon was so dim, he almost seemed to disappear into the darkness. He opened the door, but didn’t leave as I expected.

Instead, he turned, gaze meeting mine, and in the quietest voice, confessed, “I get them, too.” 

His tone was saturated with exhaustion and I felt my limbs grow weak with the weight that it carried.

Before I could speak or even think, he slipped out of my bedroom. The click of the door closing seemed to mock me. As if Peeta’s wounded voice was also my fault. As if I was the one who’d put those marks on his face and placed him under probation. 

On shaking legs, I crawled back into my bed but stripped myself of my clothes, the heat of my bed and room making me feel suffocated. I heard the squeak of the bedsprings in the guest bedroom, letting me know Peeta was shifting about in it. 

I fell asleep wondering if I would always feel this lonely.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following morning I dragged myself out of bed wishing I could forget what had happened the night before. Or more like wishing that it never happened at all.

It felt like something had shifted between us in those few moments, but I refused to further process what that was or what it meant. But Peeta’s words were still stuck in my head, bouncing off the walls inside my mind, forcing me to keep ruminating on last night’s events. 

I ate my breakfast in silence, Prim humming as she went about chores around the house, and Dad already out working hard. 

“Where’s Peeta?” I asked Prim as I was about to head out, immediately regretting it. 

Prim smiled smugly at me, a mischievous grin on her face. “He’s outside in the pig barn.” 

I didn’t want to know why she was smiling at me like that, especially after making that sexual innuendo about Peeta’s buns yesterday, so I just shook my head at her and slipped on my muck boots. 

To my surprise when I entered the pig barn, I saw Peeta’s bulking form filling the troughs that allowed the pigs to feed in their pens.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he joked, his voice still possessing that morning husk. He glanced at me before returning to his work. 

I was baffled by the tone of his voice. The joke was friendly and I couldn’t detect any malice in it. He glanced at me again, a strange uncertainty in his eyes, and I recognized that same concern he wore in his face last night while he was in my bedroom in his gaze now.  I composed myself and made sure my face was clear of any conflicting emotions that were swirling around in me at the moment.

It was then that Gale pushed the large barn door open, pulling the hose along with him.

“Alright, Peeta, when you’re done filling the feed troughs make sure to fill all the water troughs, too,” he instructed. “Oh, mornin’ Katniss.” 

“Gale,” I acknowledged him with a nod, still feeling Peeta’s steadfast gaze on me.

“Peeta here is doing this side of the pens, would you mind doing the other side? I wouldn’t ask you to, but your dad has an order of feed he needs to pick up from the feed mill in town and he asked me to come along.”

“Sure,” I mumbled. 

“Great, I’ll see you later,’ he squeezed my shoulder, smiling down at me. He seemed to remember Peeta was standing behind me. “Nice to meet you, Peeta.”

He nodded his goodbye to Peeta and left after giving me a small smile. 

I grabbed the wagon from our feed room and strolled it down the aisle to scoop out the pig’s feed. Peeta and I worked in silence, backs to each other. I felt the urge to say something, the silence in the barn pregnant with unspoken words. The more I thought about Peeta’s “rescuing” me last night and the change in his demeanor towards me, the more angry I got with him. He had no business barging into my room last night, invading my privacy. And I wouldn’t allow him that chance to use that against me, to act like I owed him now because he suddenly took pity on me in my vulnerable state. As if I needed his pity.

I slammed my scooper into the feed bag and turned around. Peeta was just wheeling his wagon down to the feedroom, close to me when I opened my mouth.

“What happened last night--that--that doesn’t make us friends. It doesn’t change anything between us. Understand?” I said, crossing my arms.

Peeta clenched his jaw, eyes stormy. “I didn’t expect it to.”

“You had no right, to do what you did,” I continued, not interested in what he had to say.

“Oh, you mean check on you when you were screaming bloody murder?” He asked, sarcastically. Disbelief was clear on his face.

“I don’t need checking on! I’m not some child. I can handle myself,” I fumed.

Peeta snorted. “Clearly you can’t. You can’t handle your temper and you act more immature than your own younger sister,” he challenged, stepping toward me, causing me to look upwards.

I flushed with anger. The nerve of this boy was unbelievable. “If you would mind your own business and not intrude on my privacy, barging into my room like you own the goddamned house then maybe I would find it easier to control my temper.”

“I cannot believe you,” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “I should mind _my_ business? How about you mind yours! Do you not recall interrogating me? Grilling me with questions? Goddamn it, Katniss, it’s like you want me to hate you. I never came here with bad intentions and yet somehow you’re always looking at me like I’m some villain. You’d think I wasn’t, considering I cared enough to make sure you weren’t being fucking murdered last night, but I guess even that somehow makes me a bad person. So, you know what, Katniss? Go ahead. Hate me all you want. Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s hated me when I’ve done nothing to deserve it.” His voice was pained.

I was speechless. The words that he’d spoken were raw and waves of guilt washed over me. He was right, and now I hated myself even more. I felt all mixed up inside, and no words came to me.

He stood there staring down at me, brows furrowed, eyes filled with so much pain that it was difficult to look straight at him. He shook his head at me.

“Would you look at that? I finally managed to make you speechless,” He mocked.

Something in me wilted at the return of his sarcastic demeanor. Even if he was shouting at me before with obvious anger and pain, at least it was genuine. I felt like I was talking to a different Peeta when he talked to me patronizingly. Which was ridiculous, because I didn’t know Peeta at all.

Right as he turned his back to me to continue his task, I opened my mouth. Which was a stupid decision because nothing good ever comes from that.

“They’re about my mom.”

Several moments passed, the words hanging in the air, Peeta frozen in place. I was already kicking myself for what I’d blurted.

“How hilarious. Out of all the things we could find in common with each other, it’s what our nightmares are about,” he said flatly, looking at me out of the corner of his eye before pulling his wagon down to the feed room.

 

 


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sighs*. I really don't know whether I should continue this story at all. I'm confused as to whether or not anyone even likes the story since I made Katniss such an easily dislikeable person. Also, I have found out that I should never attempt to write enemies to lovers...bad idea. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you at least enjoy this chapter. Any critiques on characters or the storyline, Please either comment or message me on tumblr at the bungames. 
> 
> Thanks for each and every comment received. It gives A LOT of encouragment. Thank you!

I was baffled to say the least. The small morsel of information that Peeta gave me about his nightmares made me that much more curious about him. And I felt that much more guilty. Because while I had been being a complete and total asshole to him right from the start of his stay here, he was dealing with things I had no idea of. What my father said about Peeta not coming from a good home came back to me. I itched to ask Peeta more questions. About his home, about his past, the misdemeanor. I wanted to peel that uncomfortable looking long sleeve shirt off his sweaty body and see what he was hiding underneath.

Johanna was right in nicknaming me brainless.

Peeta was never seeking to cause me or my family trouble, _I_ was the one who attacked him. _I_ was the instigator for the hard feelings. But why? Why did being around him make me feel like I needed to act hostile towards him? What was it about this particular boy that made me feel so exposed? No matter how I acted I felt like those eyes could see straight through me. He terrified me. And it angered me that someone who should have no effect on me in any way, made me feel things I didn’t want to feel--shouldn’t feel.

Peeta was just like anybody else. There was nothing special about him, nothing that would cause him to be able to work his way inside me and root himself there.

At least, that’s what I told myself, because the thought that he might be someone who _could_ become important to me, essential even, was unbearable and absolutely not something I should consider allowing.

We worked alongside each other for the rest of the day but neither of us spoke, both silent, ruminating. I only opened my mouth to explain to Peeta how to complete a chore, and he only opened his to ask a question on if he was doing his work right. The air around us was suffocating and I felt like instead of oxygen I was swallowing, it was an ocean of the words both of us were too stubborn to say.

When I sat down for dinner that night, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d worked for much longer than I actually had. Prim gave me a sympathetic smile, her eyes asking me a question I didn’t understand as they flitted between me and Peeta.

Peeta sat beside Prim across from Dad. He wolfed his food down, seeming to be intent on making sure no one had an opportunity to ask him any questions. Had I put that fear there? Had I interrogated him and alienated him so much he felt the need to swallow his food whole in fear of being asked personal questions?

I became sick to my stomach, studying Peeta’s face as he chewed, his jaw tightening and slacking with each bite. It was like I was looking at him for the first time. This boy who bore cuts so deep they’d leave scars for the rest of his life and a bruise that had yellowed around his brilliant blue eyes had cared enough about my well-being to wake me from my nightmare even after I had made it crystal clear I despised him being here. Suddenly, the feelings of intrusion that his entry into my room had caused dissolved and gave way to a curiosity that grew warm in my stomach, something soft. I felt my palms sweat as the memory from last night of his bare skin under my hands flashed through my mind.

I flushed, feeling suddenly too hot, as feelings of guilt and something too close to what I was horrified might be attraction flowed through me.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled, rushing out of my chair to go to the storage barn.

Peeta caught my eyes before I left, which only succeeded in making me wilt even more.

When I reached the storage barn I kicked a tool box hard with my foot, letting a long string of profanities exit my mouth.

“Damn him,” I finished under my breath.

“Damn who?” Johanna’s voice came out of nowhere.

 I looked up to see her sitting in a seat by the worktable, her face stuffed with a sandwich.

"Jesus, Jo!” I breathed, startled.

She simply raised an eyebrow and continued munching on her food.

“How come you’re still here?” I asked, puzzled.

“Eh, I was fixing some shit up in here and thought, fuck it, the Everdeens won’t mind if I have my dinner in their barn. I was too hungry to wait to drive home. Why are _you_ here?” Johanna asked, as if I was the one on someone else’s property.

“I just needed some air,” I sighed and sat down on a lone bale of hay by her.

She scoffed, bits of food flying out of her mouth. “Yeah, nothing like musty barn air to refresh yourself with,” she rolled her eyes. “What a load of bullshit. Of course, I shouldn’t expect any less from you.”

“I wasn’t lying, I just--I’m just,“ I struggled to find what to say, pulling on my braid anxiously.

I didn’t know why I had come out here, other than the fact I found comfort in the smell of the barn and it’s dim lighting.

“Hiding,” Johanna finished my sentence for me, eyes trained on me as she bit off another huge chunk of her sandwich.

“What?”

“You’re hiding. And I’m guessing it’s from Peeta who I assume is the person you just cursed,” she said casually, propping her feet up on the work table.

I looked at her disbelievingly because now that she’d put it into words I supposed that’s exactly what I was doing. Was I always this transparent to others? Panic rose in me, wondering whether my defenses were really as strong as I thought they were.

Johanna gave me a smug smirk, knowing she’d guessed right. “So, what advice should I give you, brainless?”

“You’re the last person I would ever go to if I needed advice,” I scowled.

Johanna lifted her eyebrows. “Yeah? And who are the others you would go to before you came to me.”

I thought for a moment who I’d feel comfortable going to for advice, especially on Peeta. Somehow, thinking of talking to Gale about Peeta, who was the only person my age that I was close to, didn’t sit well with me.

Johanna gave me a smug smile, “See, that’s your problem.”

I squinted my eyes at her. “What’s my problem?”

Johanna let out a long, exasperated sigh like she was explaining to me what was the most obvious thing in the world. “You don’t have any friends.” I opened my mouth to object but she cut me off. “Gale doesn’t count. Even if you did do more fun things before, you two don’t do much more than scoop pig shit and fix equipment now. That’s not a friend, that’s a co-worker.”

“Your point is, Jo?”

“My point, is that you’re a strangely dislikeable person when you’re suspicious of someone. And if you want anything good to happen between you and Peeta you’re going to have to change that.”

I scoffed, “I’m not good at making friends, Jo, you know that. I don’t know how to make people like me.”

“Well, I like you, though sometimes you can be a real pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, but when I met you, I wasn’t trying to make you like me.”

“Exactly. Look, you can’t make anyone like you. But you can try to stop thinking the whole world is trying to kill you and loosen up for once.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re the loosest person I know.”

“You calling me a slut, Everdeen?” Johanna crossed her arms over her chest in mock hurt.  

I rubbed my hand over my face in frustration towards myself. “That’s not what I meant.”

She stuffed her container that was previously holding her dinner into her shoulder bag before leaning down to put her face right in front of mine.

“On second thought maybe you should just shut up and look pretty,” she winked at me, cackling as she left the barn.  

I groaned in frustration. Instead of calming down, now my mind was spinning faster thanks to Johanna.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Me and Peeta settled into an unspoken agreement that unless we absolutely had to talk, we wouldn’t. Days passed with tense silence thick in the air between us as we worked side by side. I didn’t know what to make of the strange sort of truce we’d seemed to come into.

Nights passed where I screamed, thrashing against my blankets, whole body trembling and damp with sweat from trying to escape the dream world where my darkest thoughts came out to play.

Peeta did not come into my room again.

I still found him watching me, though he always turned his head away from me too quickly for me to see the expression he wore on his face. Sometimes, he’d turn to me as if he was going to make conversation, only to busy himself with some other mundane task.

All throughout the scorching days, he had yet to wear a short sleeved shirt. I was painfully curious, aching to know why, but I wasn’t going to be the one to break our perfect silent truce. Any words from my mouth would surely result in some argument between us. And now that Peeta’s company had become a constant, I really didn’t want to lose his familiar presence.

I kept wishing I knew what to do to make up for my hostility the first few days he was here.

As I was walking towards the house to prepare lunch one day, I saw Peeta stroking Lady’s small face. Stopping to listen, I heard him humming a lullaby that Dad used to sing to me and Prim.

I rushed into the house, washed a couple of carrots and made my way back to Lady’s pen.

Peeta startled when I stopped at his side, jerking away from me sharply as I extended a carrot towards him.

“She loves them,” I said, as if this explained my sudden appearance.

Peeta squinted at me. Gingerly, as if the carrot was a bomb about to explode, he grasped it from my hand.

I watched his thick fingers break the long carrot in half and hold one half out on the palm of his hand. Lady nibbled it eagerly into her mouth.

I took a turn in feeding her a half of my own carrot.

“Prim told me you were the one who bought Lady for her,” Peeta murmured, stroking Lady gently.

I nodded, leaning against the fence.

“She also said that you took a chance on her because Lady was injured when you first got her.”

“I knew the goat would be a gold mine. She produces goat cheese and milk that we sell at our farmer’s market.”

Peeta made an amused noise at the back of his throat.

“What?”

“You really expect me to believe that bullshit answer? Despite what you think, I'm not stupid, Katniss. I've seen the way you are with your sister. You'd do anything for her, even buying a goat that’s injured just to fulfill Prim’s wishes.”

I scowled, feeding Lady the other half of my carrot.

“Don't take offense to that. It's a compliment, really. Anyone would be lucky to have the bond you and your sister have with their own siblings,” Peeta murmured, a wistful look in his eyes.

I was puzzled by his soft words, but I stopped myself from doing or saying anything, figuring I'd chase away this Peeta who looked contemplative and sad. Not that I wanted him to be sad. In fact the way his round eyes seemed so filled with sorrow made me want to put him somewhere he wouldn't get hurt. To wrap him in my inadequate embrace and ward off whatever was troubling him.

But that was pity. And I tried my best not to show pity to anyone, knowing how angry it made me when I was on the receiving end of it.

“I'm going to make lunch,” I announced awkwardly, not knowing how to end the one-sided conversation.

“Alright.”

I walked hesitantly away, and then turned.

“Peeta?”

He turned, confusion clear on his face. “Yes? Katniss?”

“I'd like you to show me how to make those cheese buns some time,” I said, biting my lip and tugging on the end of my braid.

A shadow of a smile played on his lips and I yearned to know what a full blown grin would do to his features.

“Did the all knowing Katniss Everdeen just ask _me_ , a lowly farm hand, to teach her something?”

I crossed my arms. “That wasn't a question.”

“Oh, well in that case, your highness, I'll be awaiting your beckoning,” Peeta smirked, bowing mockingly.

“Tomorrow morning,” I blurted out and then rushed towards the house.

But I was pulled back by a large hand on my wrist, effectively stopping me in my tracks. Peeta turned me so I faced him.

“On one condition, Kat,” Peeta held up a finger, lips twitching.

“What’s that?” I asked, leaning away from him to squint up at him. God, I hated that nickname.  

“Leave the wake up call to my alarm,” He cocked an eyebrow.

I felt my face grow hot. “Deal.”


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all so much for the amazing words and encouragement. I hope it didn't seem like I was fishing for compliments when I asked whether i should continue the story, that wasn't my intention at all. It's my first time posting a multi-chapter fic anywhere so I didn't understand if people were hating how I had made the characters and my writing. But thanks to all of you, it was made clear that it's nothing personal. Anyway, I'm so sorry it took forever for me to write this chapter and I hope it's interesting enough to keep your attention. Thank you all again for your incredibly sweet words! <3

When I awoke to the sound of the front door banging closed the following morning, an eagerness I hadn’t felt since I was a small child bubbled up inside me. The feeling that something wonderful was awaiting me grew and I remembered that Peeta was going to teach me how to bake cheese buns today.

Of course, there was anxiety mixed in there, too. The last time I had spent an afternoon with him in the kitchen wasn’t a fond memory, but that was before I had come to my senses and was being extremely rude to him. Of course, Prim had to go and make me even more uncomfortable that night by making that stupid dirty joke about his buns. Even thinking about it now made my face heat up.

But this time I would try my best to keep her out of the kitchen. I wanted this time to belong to only Peeta and I. That thought unsettled me, so I rushed to get ready.

Walking into the kitchen, I saw Peeta had already laid out all the ingredients. He looked up from where he was standing, sipping a cup of something steaming.

“The tables have turned,” Peeta smirked, blue eyes shining over his cup as he took another drink.

I rolled my eyes, understanding he would never let go of that one morning that I woke him up by pouring water on him. I raised my eyebrows in question at all the things already set out and waiting to be used to make the pastry.

Peeta set his cup down, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Prim helped me find everything,” he explained, understanding my silent question as to how he found everything in our kitchen. “She’s out with Lady right now. I can tell she’s really excited for the little one to come.”

I felt an ache in my heart at how Peeta described Lady’s kid. It was such a tender thing to say and seemed like it should sound wrong coming from the rough looking boy standing in front of me, but it didn’t. It sounded extremely right falling from his lips.

I smiled softly, walking closer to where he was. “She’s determined to make sure Lady’s pregnancy goes smoothly and the kid is healthy.”

“She seems like she’s got a real knack for healing,” Peeta observed.

“She does. Just like our mom did. They used to seem so similar to me, but now I know they couldn’t be more different,” I sighed.

I looked away from the kitchen window that faced the big storage barn where I saw my father and Gale just starting the morning work. Prim was brushing Lady in her pen. I realized now I had forgotten to set my alarm last night and had woken up much later than everyone else.

Meeting Peeta’s eyes that were already gazing into mine, I flipped my braid off my shoulder and straightened my back. The questions in Peeta’s eyes would have to remain unanswered. I didn’t know what had possessed me to bring my mom into the conversation. Peeta had a calming effect on me, which seemed to pull information from me I wouldn’t normally share. Mentally, I made a note to be more cautious. If Peeta so early in whatever newfound acquaintanceship we were creating could make me say things that were better left unsaid I didn’t want to know what things I could say or  _ do _ later on that would embarrass me.

“So, baker boy, are you going to show me how to make those cheese buns or what?” I cocked my head, placing my hands on my hips.

Peeta blinked a bit, as if breaking out of a daze. “Sure thing, Kat.”

I scowled, and Peeta threw me a mischievous grin.

With that, he began walking me through the steps of making the dough. I ended up watching him more than doing the actual work. Not that I’d admit it to anyone, but watching the way his strong hands kneaded the dough, veins prominent over muscles in both his fists and forearms, was quickly becoming a favorite sight of mine. His voice took on a softer tone, something deep and calm as he talked me through the steps and demonstrated.

“Would you like to try? You haven’t really kneaded it yet,” he noticed, moving from the dough.

“Ah, I don’t know,” I mumbled.

“Come on, Kat,” he urged, a twinkle in his eye.

As if that stupid nickname wasn’t incentive enough to knead, his flour covered hands rested on my hips and pulled me directly in front of the dough.

My breath hitched and I became shocked at myself that I rather liked the feel of him hovering just behind me, his scent encompassing me.

“This is a team effort, Katniss,” Peeta murmured, hands sliding off me so slowly I’d say he was hesitant about taking them from my hips if I didn’t know better.

I was struck by how close he was to me, his voice next to my ear.

As I began kneading the dough, Peeta moved to the side, his body still close to mine, making me both antsy and calm at the same time.

“You’re good at it,” he hummed, looking up at me, his chin placed on his hand, elbow resting on the counter. “You have nice, long, strong fingers.”

“I”m an archer,” I explained, my face hot for unknown reasons.

Peeta perked up at this new tidbit of information. “That’s perfect!”

I looked at him finally. “Why?” I frowned.

“Because it means I can learn something from you, too. I can show you the different pastries I remember and you can teach me how to shoot a bow.”

I was puzzled at the excitement he showed at learning from me, but shrugged my shoulders anyway.

“What? You don’t like the idea?”

“No, no. It’s not that. . . I just think learning archery is a bit useless. I mean, it’s not like we come under attack and use bow and arrows to protect ourselves,” I scoffed.

“Oh, and learning how to bake pastries isn’t useless?” He asked, amused.

“Well, at least I’m learning how to make things that taste good. I’m not the greatest cook.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s not like knowing how to hunt is anything useful  _ or _ badass,” Peeta’s lips twitched, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Ugh, shut up. Here, finish your dough. I like watching you better anyway.” My eyes widened the moment the words were out of my mouth and I clamped my mouth shut.

Peeta looked shocked, but his lips quirked up again, a small dimple appearing in his cheek I hadn’t noticed he had before. 

“I meant-I meant watching you do it. I mean because you know what you’re doing and I don’t.  You know, because you’re the-the expert,” I shoved him back in front of the dough, ignoring the way he watched me.

I tugged on my braid, and rubbed my hands over my face. “Well? Go on, baker boy, show me what the next step is, don’t just sit there gawking at me,” I scolded, crossing my arms.

This only succeeded in making Peeta’s smug grin widen.

“Yes, your highness,” he replied.

After we put the cheese into the dough, Peeta threw them into the oven.  

“Now what?” I asked.

“This is the hard part. Now we wait.”

I let out a frustrated groan. “Well, we have work to do, so at least that’ll distract me from my hunger,” I sighed, smoothing jam onto a bagel and devouring it quickly before making another.

Peeta helped himself to some hot cereal. We were both silent while eating and it came to mind that Peeta had never been into town. 

“You wanna go into town with me?” I asked abruptly, still not knowing how to interact with him after our arguments the first few days.

Peeta looked up from his cereal. Before he could say anything I blurted out an explanation, not wanting to seem too chummy.  

“I have some errands to run, and thought you might want to come. You’re probably eager to see something besides corn, you being a city slicker and all.”

Peeta scoffed. “That’s a new one,” he muttered to himself. “Sure, Kat. I would love to see your  _ little _ town,” he agreed, one corner of his lips twitching.

I resisted rolling my eyes at the telltale sign of him finding amusement at my expense.  

So, we headed out. It was a beautiful day, the sky dotted with a few billowy clouds, sun shining radiantly in front of a saturated blue background. The color reminded me briefly of Peeta’s eyes. The beginning of the car ride was quiet, the radio playing to make the silence less awkward. Surprisingly though, I didn’t feel awkward sitting next to someone whom I‘d only just yesterday began to be civil with. 

Peeta seemed lost in his own thoughts, gazing out of the window at the miles of corn fields that we passed.  

Some might say that where I lived was a lonely place, considering there were miles between my neighbors and my house, but I liked the peace and quiet. On occasion, we would have Haymitch, our nearest neighbor, come to have dinner with us. He was manager of the outdoors supply store in town, and I wondered if I should invite him to dinner tonight.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Peeta spoke up from his seat.

I glanced at him, giving him an incredulous look.

“What? Is it a crime to ask that? To want to have a look into the mystery that is Katniss Everdeen’s mind?”

“Jesus, you sound like one of those god-awful romance novels you can find in a grocery store,” I grunted, my face twisting up in disgust.

“I’m insulted that you think my charming abilities are equivalent to those sorry excuses for books. Besides, what I said wasn’t even meant to be taken romantically. I’m seriously stumped by how your mind works, Kat,” Peeta teased, deadpanning.

I barked out a laugh. “Your charming abilities?” I scoffed. “I didn’t even think you had any.”

Peeta leaned close to my ear, voice pitching to a low growl, “That’s ‘cause I’m not using them on you.”

He pulled away before I could shove him away, not wanting to let him believe I enjoyed the way his warm breath passed over the shell of my ear and tickled the bare skin of my neck.

“Oh, what a pity,” I tried sassing back, but my voice came out breathy so I covered that up by sighing exasperatedly.

Peeta started to say something but I didn't want to know where he'd take the conversation next. With a huff, I turned up the radio, a folksy song blaring through the speakers.

“You like this?” Peeta shouted over the music.

I gritted my teeth and nodded. He seemed intent on talking.

“Can I show you what I like?”

“If that'll shut you up, go for it,” I grumbled.

He was already putting in a CD, looking like an eager little boy on Christmas morning.

The notes of an old rock song blared through the speakers. Peeta sat back, though I saw his feet and hands moving in time with the music.

I sat back letting myself get lost in the music, the rough, punk tones of the songs a change from the more sedate music I normally listened to. I turned up the volume, not thinking about the consequences of that.

“Yeah! You like it?” Peeta leaned forward, head bobbing with the music, the mop of wild curls atop his head flopping up and down with each movement of his head. His face had broken into a genuine grin, the first one that looked completely unguarded and I was struck at how bright, how  _ beautiful _ his features were, eyes lit up in a way I hadn't seen before. I almost veered off the road at the sight. “They're The Sex Pistols! Please tell me you've heard them before?” 

“My mom doesn't–didn't–like music like this,” I admitted, only realizing I'd been smiling back at him now that the corners of my lips were turning downwards at the memory of my mother.

He thumped his head against the headrest, face still sporting that glorious smile and I flushed at the sight of his head thrown back, throat exposed, chiseled jaw clenching. “Oh my god, Kat, I have so much music to have you listen to. The 70’s were fucking full of legendary music.”

“God, you're  _ such _ a nerd, baker boy. And who would've thought a  _ baker’s _ son would like  _ punk rock,  _ of all things,” I teased.

“Hey, hey, you're forgetting about my court ordered probation. I'd say that deems me worthy of loving punk rock, wouldn't you agree? Besides, even a  _ farmer’s _ daughter can get down and dirty to punk rock.”

I raised an eyebrow, shaking my head at the mischievous twinkle in his eye. He held my gaze and then opened his mouth to shout along with the lyrics, shaking his head with enthusiasm at some parts, but for the most part he kept his gaze glued to mine. I tried to fight the smile that was growing, but Peeta’s headbanging and air guitar moves along with the ginormous chuckle he was wearing made it impossible.

I didn't think it was even possible, but Peeta’s grin stretched wider across his features, the ugly cuts and bruises no match for the way his lips stretched over his teeth. The sun lit up his hair from behind, making a halo about his head and with his smile I couldn't help but think that it looked like the sun itself was shining out through his features.

We spent the rest of the drive listening to the old tunes, Peeta telling me which ones were his favorite. When we reached town, I pulled into the parking lot for the outdoors store that Haymitch managed.

“What are we doing here?” Peeta hesitated, looking at the building with suspicion.

“Relax, you’re going to meet a family friend of mine,” I answered. “Why’re you so nervous? Thought you were a real charmer,” I teased.

Peeta just ignored me and frowned as we got out of the car and headed inside. His expression reminded me of how he looked the first day he got here, and I wondered if I may have over-stepped with my teasing. Mentally, I reminded myself that Peeta was still just an acquaintance, probably would remain so for his stay here, and that I had no business teasing him like I was his best friend. He made it too easy to forget that and I became slightly frustrated with him, ridiculous as it was.

He may not be trying to charm me intentionally, but already I was letting myself slip into conversations I’d normally only feel comfortable enough to have with someone I’d known for years, like Gale. If this was Peeta not trying to charm me, I didn’t want to know what Peeta actually trying to would be like. That would lead to a whole lot of confusing new territory I didn’t have the time to figure out how to navigate.

We reached the back of the store, finding the door that had a silver plaque with the words “Office” engrained on it.

“Old man! You in?” I pounded on the heavy door.

Peeta raised his eyebrows at me, clearly amused.

A “come in” that sounded more like a grunt than anything was released on the other side of the door, and I entered the room, Peeta trailing behind.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of being intruded on by the ever gracious Katniss Everdeen?” Haymitch mumbled, sarcastically, not bothering to swivel his chair around from where he was sifting through some papers.

I rolled my eyes and shot Peeta a scowl as he chuckled softly.

“I  _ was _ planning on inviting you to dinner, but seeing as you’re just  _ so _ busy with your papers that you can’t even turn around, I’ll just see myself out--”

“Oh, dinner, huh, you’ve got my full attention now,” Haymitch grinned, turning his chair around. “And you brought a boy with you. Tell me, did she tie you up or knock you out cold to bring you here with her?”

“Actually, she held me at gunpoint,” Peeta mumbled in reply, not missing a beat.

Haymitch raised his coffee mug to Peeta, cackling. “Genius!”

I shot Peeta a death glare. He cocked his head at me, raising an eyebrow. I sighed with force, turning back to Haymitch who slurped from his coffee mug noisily.

“You keep making fun of me like that you won’t be invited to dinner anymore,” I warned.

“Just teasing you, Sweetheart,” Haymitch winked. “I’ll take you up on that offer, though. I’m in bad need of a home cooked meal. Who are you, kid?”

Haymitch’s gaze bore into Peeta’s, but Peeta stood his ground under the scrutiny of the scruffy older man.

“Name’s Peeta,” He replied, reaching a hand out.

They clapped their hands together and shook them, grips firm.

“I came to stay and help the Everdeens out with their harvest,” he explained.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you, then,” Haymitch replied, small grin in place on his weathered face.

“I can handle the farmwork.”

Haymitch guffawed. “I wasn’t talking about the farm.”

I gave Haymitch one of my best death stares, shooting daggers at him with my eyes as his gaze slid over to me and Peeta realized he was talking about me.

“On second thought maybe you coming to dinner isn’t such a good idea,” I cocked my head at him.

He raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll behave myself.”

“Uh huh, you better. Be there at six,” I called over my shoulder as I motioned for Peeta to follow me and we walked out of the office.

“So, Haymitch is. . .” Peeta trailed off.

“Yeah, there’s not really a single word that can describe Haymitch. He’s been through a lot though and has proven himself to be a loyal, caring man. He’s just rough around the edges. But don’t tell him I said that,” I smiled to myself.

Peeta just gave a hum as we walked across the street to the grocery market. 

As I grabbed the grocery bags and went to ask Peeta why he wasn’t coming down the line so we could leave, I saw him lay a bag of wrapped mint candies on the conveyor belt.

“For Prim,” He shrugged.

The gesture was endearing and I felt myself smiling up at him. To cover up my reaction I asked, “How can you afford it?”

“I didn’t come here completely broke, Everdeen. It’s not like I was homeless before I came here,” He said, a taunting lilt to his voice before he squeezed past me to the pay the cashier.

I opened my mouth to throw some snarky response back, only to have the words die on my lips as his firm, broad chest briefly brushed against my back as he moved past.

“Let go get those cheese buns out of the oven, shall we?” Peeta asked brightly.

I followed him wordlessly out of the store.  
  



	8. Update

I've contemplated what I'd do with this story for a long time and I've come to the conclusion that after finishing my WIP I'll be coming back to finish this story. I'm hoping to have my WIP finished by either the end of July or August, so updates for this story will start happening around that time.

I'll most likely just completely re-write all the chapters I've posted so far because I don't like that I wrote in first person and all of the chapters are too short for my liking as well as just all around poorly written.

 

If you're still interested in this story, that's awesome and thank you for supporting the chapters posted. <3

 

Big shoutout to stjohn27 for commenting and asking whether I'd update. Your support and interest means the fucking world. 


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